


Lies & Other Bullshit

by 16minutes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/16minutes/pseuds/16minutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is guilty, Sirius is suspicious. A post-hogwarts wartime ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies & Other Bullshit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punkdavekat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkdavekat/gifts).



> I hope y'all enjoy; comments & constructive criticisms appreciated!

A slow blink, and he’s awake.

The sheets beside him are folded carefully, and he is alone. The clock tells him that he’s slept for some time but still, he does not feel rested. When he yawns, he feels the distinct urge to curl up and go back to ignoring the world around him. But there are things to be done. So, regretfully, he rises and makes way to the bathroom.

The bathroom, once clinically clean, is now unkempt. Mildew lines the walls and a crack in the window lets in a chilling breeze. He pays no mind to these facts and instead steps into the bath and turns on the faucet.

There would’ve been a time, not so long ago, that he would burst into song, loud and offkey. He would hear a bang on the door with the words “OI, SHUT UP” and would laugh and sing louder. He would scamper out, dripping on the floor, and announce his presence as royalty. He would be grinning.

But this time has passed. Instead, he stands motionless under the faucet and lets the water run boiling over him, making no move to change it. When he emerges, his body is red and his hair sticks to his skin. He wraps a towel around himself and readies himself for the day.

When, some time later, he is dressed and dry, he walks into the kitchen. Here, too, he is alone. A pot of tea is sitting on the counter. He pours some. Takes a sip. Sits down at the table. Unrolls the newspaper. The headline reads:

MCKINNON FAMILY OF FIVE KILLED IN DEATH EATER ATTACK.

His eyes scan over the words of the story, but he hardly reads it. His jaw is clenched; his hand has found way to his hair and is pulling at it. He closes his eyes, which are burning, and only opens them when he hears the lock on the door being jiggled. A second later, and there is Remus, standing in the doorway.

Remus, in a very un-Remus move, does not remove his coat or gloves or shoes before walking across the flat and sitting across from Sirius at the table. He gives no greeting. Finally, Sirius speaks.

“You weren’t home last night.”

Remus hears this and his eyes flicker up, away from where he has been studying the newspaper. He meets Sirius’s eyes briefly, before glancing away.

“Long night at the shop.”

It’s bullshit. Sirius knows it. His only question is why Remus doesn’t bother coming up with a better excuse.

“Better get to bed, then. You must be tired.”

“I have to go back out. I was just stopping in for something.”

Sirius nods, as if this makes sense, but really, he knows, it doesn’t. None of it makes sense, and it adds up in all the wrong ways. He nods again, this time to clear his head.

They sit there, together but not really, in silence.

After a moment, Remus stands. He heads into the bedroom and Sirius can hear the sound of draws being rifled through. A minute later and Remus reappears, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He glances to Sirius and a look comes over him, a look Sirius can’t describe, and he opens his mouth as if to say something. And for a second, a wave of hope washes over Sirius, until three curt words fall out of Remus’s mouth.

“See you later.”

When Remus closes the door behind him, Sirius’s head drops onto the table. Bullshit and bullshit and bullshit. He can’t do this for much longer.

~~~

He stares at his reflection in the cup of tea he’s just been handed. He is tired; anyone with eyes can see as much. But it goes deeper than the bags under his eyes. When he moves, his bones creak, and his heart weighs him down like an anchor. Every step feels like a mile and he’s sick of marching.

But, like any good soldier, march on he must.

His thoughts are interrupted when a modulated voice asks, “Lost in thought, are you, Remus?”

Remus lifts his head and Dumbledore continues. “I know that this must be weighing greatly on your mind. But there are reasons for our secrecy, Remus. Reasons that must not go ignored.”

“I understand.”

Dumbledore nods and twirls his beard absent mindedly. “And you know the next move?”

Remus nods.

“Excellent.” He pauses and studies the thin, almost frail looking figure across from him. “Before you go back out, and I feel that I would be a terrible host if I didn’t ask, would you care to join me for some lemon tarts? They’re fresh out of the oven, and delicious, if I do say so myself.”

Remus offers his most polite smile before giving a declining shake of the head. “I ought to be going.”

“Very well.” He extends his hand.

Remus shakes the older man’s hand and with a final salutation, heads for the door.

“And Remus?”

Remus turns slightly to look back at Dumbledore, who is now standing, his long robes trailing on the floor.

“Do take care.”

Remus nods once more and opens the door.

Outside, the wind is harsh. He lowers his head and walks, passing the dejected homeless and joyous youth alike in silence. He counts himself lucky that it is a short walk and, in a matter of minutes, finds himself standing outside of their flat.

It takes a minute, what with his numb fingers, but Remus manages to undo the lock.

And there is Sirius.

Sirius is sitting at the table, hand tangled in his hair. His eyes are bright in the worst way.

Remus joins him at the table, knowing he can’t stay, but longing to anyway. He allows himself this one short privilege before returning to his duties. He’s picking ice off his glove when he sees the newspaper in front of Sirius.

The words don’t register at first, and he is in shock when Sirius speaks.

“You weren’t home last night.”

Though Remus is sure the words are supposed to sound cold and callous, he can hear the hint of worry sneak through. He is overcome with guilt and can’t stand to meet Sirius’s eye.

“Long night at the shop.”

It’s the worst lie he can think of. Because he knows he can’t tell anyone, but maybe, just maybe, if he lies badly enough, Sirius will realize the truth. It’s a long-shot, but it’s the only hope that Remus has.

“Better get to bed then. You must be tired.”

That’s not the reply he needs. He needs Sirius to call him on it, to force the truth out of him. He’s spent too long lying -- about what he was, about who he was, and now this -- and if Remus didn’t know any better, he’d say that it was starting to kill him.

“I have to go back out. I was just stopping in for something.”

When Sirius doesn’t reply, Remus knows that their conversation has ended. Tense, as most of their conversations seemed to be nowadays. He stands and makes way to the bedroom where a chest of drawers stand.

It takes him a minute to find it. It’s hidden under an unused hairbrush and a bottle of gin. But there is the old photograph, exactly how he remembers it. He can’t help but to stare. Their bodies, curled together. Their hidden faces, no doubt peaceful with indulgent sleep. He feels the ache of yearning and decides it best to shove the picture into his pocket, or else face the possibility of standing there for eternity.

As he leaves, he turns his head and catches sight of Sirius’s face. The cheekbone where he placed his hand. The grey eyes that looked at him like he was everything. The gentle lips he embraced time and time again. And in that moment, it all almost comes spilling out. But Remus stiffens. He knows he cannot betray Dumbledore’s trust. And so he says:

“See you later.”

And when he closes the door behind him, he leans back against it. He closes his eyes. Lies and lies and lies. He can’t do this for much longer.


End file.
